I was asked to speak at my son’s wedding. He asked about 3 weeks before the event. So I laid in bed, night after night, and wrote script after script in my head of what I’d say, how I’d say it, how everyone would laugh and cry, how fabulous I was, and how great I’d look. Then, I wouldn’t write it. I wouldn’t commit anything to paper because it all sounded wrong. It sounded tinny and insincere. It all sounded wrong, and tinny, and insincere, and I’d put on 3 pounds since I bought my dress for the wedding.
So I did what I always do. Nothing. I avoided thinking about it, and I secretly worried (about the speech, and my growing Buddha-belly–egads!).
But the day of the wedding came, as they inevitably do, and I sat through the service alternately crying and laughing and clenching my butt chakra. Afterwards, with a glass of champagne, a full heart, and a mouthful of cheesecake, I asked him, “Do you still want me to say something?”
“Yes. I do. You are going to say something, aren’t you?” He sounded trepidatious, like I might let him down.
“Of course!!” I say, full of conviction and terror. But now what? What now? What was I to say?
There was nothing for it but to write. So I slipped off my shoes, found a quiet spot, and on the back of the wedding program I wrote my speech. Here it is:
Then we met Richelle–and as a family, fell madly in love. But it was our 7-year old, Bronwyn, that said it best when she said to me, “Mom, you know what I think? I think Jonah is too young to get married, but he sure picked a beautiful, pretty girl to marry.” And Bronwyn was right–Jonah picked the most beautiful, pretty girl to marry–inside and out.
In the end, I think I did okay. And it probably helped that most of the audience was Dutch and didn’t understand half of it. What I learned was that it doesn’t really matter what you say, just that you say it, whether you look like a sausage in your too-tight dress or not.